To Drive the Wind
by Sakirin
Summary: As darkness rises in Middle-Earth, so too does a darkness begin to rise within Legolas. Can he fight against it, or will an evil that has not been seen in years be unleashed upon the world once more?
1. Default Chapter

 Disclaimer: I don't own LotR or any of its components, so be nice, okay?  Just having a bit o' fun is all I'm doing.

Hmm…my inspiration comes at some of the oddest, most inconvenient times.  Take this one, for instance..I was in the shower, of all places.

Nevermind that.  This is, I hope, something a little different than usual.  It's a tidbit of something that could become an intriguing story, I think.  When you're done reading, I do hope you wouldn't mind giving me just a little bit more of your time to review?  Whether or not I continue depends on whether or not I have motivation, so do tell me if you like it (or if you don't ^^).

Just as a warning, while Leggy is obviously the protagonist of this story, it doesn't mean he's going to be a pleasant character (fun to write, though).  Also, if it weren't obvious, this is AU.

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Chapter One: A Day for Princes 

Today was a day for getting situated, acquainted with the others who had arrived, and the inhabitants of this place; some had come before him, some this very day, as he had.  Some he already knew: the Man Aragorn son of Arathorn, the Ranger called Strider, whom the Elves sometimes called Estel; Bilbo Baggins, the kindly old Hobbit who had once carried the Ring of Power; Gandalf the Grey, the wise wizard the Elves knew as Mithrandir; Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Rivendell; Arwen his daughter, in love with the aforementioned Man.  Of these, only Arwen would not be present for the next day's proceedings, for which he was rather glad.  There were others who would be present, those with names unmentioned, and those he had never seen until today.  

         For what seemed like endless hours he danced the dance of courtesy, greeting old friends and wading through introductions to those he was unfamiliar with.  All manner had come to see what would be done, and perhaps to add something of their own.  Attendance ranged from Elves of Mirkwood to the Dwarves with whom they did not look kindly on (a feeling that was quite mutual), and many others in between.  Men, too, from realms such as that of Gondor.

         Today was merely a day for getting situated; tomorrow would be a day for history, a day that would be the beginning of the Council of Elrond.  A Council to decide the fate of the world, where dark tales and dim hopes for its continued existence would be told.  But not all stories would be recited, and not all secrets revealed.

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         Legolas stepped aside for the Lord Elrond with a courteous nod of his head, accompanied by a heartfelt smile and a sincere wish that the Elf-Lord of Imladris have a night of pleasant dreams, before entering the guest room that had been designated as his for the duration of the Council.

         Heaving a sigh of immense relief, he slumped with his back against the door as soon as it was closed and locked.  Legolas Greenleaf, archer and prince, was the youngest son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood's sons, and the favorite.  He was neither as flirtatious as his oldest brother, nor as irresponsible as the second.  He may have been third and last-born, but in everything else, he was first.  The surest aim, the swiftest foot, the sharpest mind.  Attractive even by Elven reckoning, a dutiful son, always thoughtful before speaking, never harsh in action or in word.

Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm was the perfect son.

What no one saw, however, was the cruelty hidden by gentle eyes, and the irony behind every cheerful smile.


	2. Truths and Falsehoods

Disclaimer still applies.

And  now we get to read about the Council of Elrond!  But don't worry, it's the many-times-condensed version.  Just a tiny bit of bookverse in this chapter.

Sorry about the wait for this chapter, I keep getting sidetracked.  Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!  As always, said reviews are much appreciated.

Kindly forgive small errors.

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Chapter Two: Truths and Falsehoods 

         Legolas' head was beginning to nod, and he caught himself.  It would not do for him to show his boredom, much as he did feel it.  He had sat through the speech of the Dwarf Glóin, of the troubles in Moria and the appearance of a messenger from Sauron.  So, too, was the tale of the Ring told, most of which he knew and knew well.  Boromir of Gondor, son of the Steward, told of Gondor and the dream that troubled him.  And so it went, through the presentation of the ring, the telling of Frodo's story, and of the Grey Pilgrim's.  All through it a great portion of his interest was feigned; most of these things he had already been told, and so they were not of concern to him at the present.

         At last, however, the subject of the creature Gollum was brought up, and it was Legolas' turn to speak his tale, the reason for which his father had sent him.  He hid the beginnings of a smirk before anyone could notice, and began his act.

         "Alas!  alas!" he cried, giving all pretense of distress.  "The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told.  They are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this company.  Sméagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped."

         This and what followed it he spoke as one who truly knew great sorrow at the events he described, but in his memory and in reality they were not quite as he now told it.

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         As Legolas rounded the corner, he was expecting a straight shot from the stairwell to the doorway, but instead he was met with a green-clad body, topped with dark brown hair.  In response, said body staggered back a few steps at the blonde elf's equally unexpected impact.  That, and an utterenace of "mmff," coupled with a muffled expletive.

         "Ondorion!  Pardon me, I didn't see you there," Legolas did his very best to look contrite, though a playful half-grin snuck into his expression.

         "A statement of the obvious, little princeling.  Where might _you_ be off to at such a pace, may I ask?  Nevermind, that doesn't matter.  Alassëon is looking for you; something about the one Mithrandir brought to us.  I suspect you'll find him where I left him, which would be at the entrance to the dungeons."

         "Thank you, Ondorion.  I'll go right to him, then, " Legolas grinned as he spoke, and fingered a lock of his hair, "In the meantime, I might suggest a mirror before you get to wherever it is you're going."

       With that, he took his leave of the Elf known quite well for his longwindedness, and went towards the location to which he had been directed (as well as the direction he had originally intended to go).  He'd never had anything to do with the creature once known as Sméagol, but this was opportune.  Perhaps he had not yet been brought out for the day, when he would be permitted out of the confines of the dungeons.  If that were the case, it would make things easier for him, as he wouldn't have to push his rank to get down there.

         Upon his approach, the unintelligible cries of the creature reached his sensitive ears.  They were not cries of distress, nor were they cries of pain; alternately, he sounded rather irate.  Legolas rounded another corner (this time bereft of obstacles, both animate and inanimate), just in time to find a swearing guard finish his run up the steps at an apparently extraordinary pace.  Considering how far down he would have been, this was no mean feat.

         "Alassëon!" the Elf-prince called out, "You wanted me for something?"

         "Legolash!  It'sh about damn time you got here," the guard's words were slurred, and he had clearly been drinking more than a cupful, even at this relatively early hour of the day.  He seemed to realize to whom he was speaking, though, and made an effort to correct his speech.  "That Gollum creature is being an interminable nuisance.  Everyone else went out hunting for the day, and left him to me.  Do you think you could try to get him up here?"

         Legolas did his best not to laugh out loud, and chose instead a look of gracious patience.  "Certainly, Alassëon.  I will do my best."

         For the second time that day, he took his leave of another fool, and headed down the winding stone steps to the deeper of the dungeons, where Gollum was being held.    He'd calmed down a bit by the time Legolas got there, but he started right back up again when he saw this new Elven intruder.

         "Nassty, dirty Elvses!  What does it want with us, hmm?  To make us go up there again, stuck in a tree like little birdses in a nest?"

         "Gollum, Sméagol, whichever you prefer, you must listen to me, and quickly!  Before someone else comes to see what's taking so much time.  I can help you get out of here, but I need you to cooperate with me, or it'll never work.  Do you understand?"

         His great, luminous eyes were eager now, and he could not hide the excitement in his voice, "Yes, yes, we understand!  How, how do we escape, precious?"

         "You must come up with me, and go into a tree as you have done in the past.  But this time, you must stay there and not come down.  You climb too well now for them to try to get you down from it- they'll have to wait for you to come down yourself.  That's something you musn't do, however!  You have to stay there, and if you wait long enough, you will be free.  Will you do this, Gollum?  Sméagol?  Will you come with me, now?"

         "Does the Elf tell us the truth, precious?  Does he?  If he does not, we will find him when we come down.  Oh, yes, we will.  And he will feel our hands around his pretty, tricksy throat.  Does the Elf understand us?"

         "Yes, I understand.  You will find, though, that there will be no need for that.  Now, come!  There is no time left!"

         And with that final affirmation, Gollum emerged from the unlocked cell and tolerated the collar of rope which Legolas looped around his neck (not Elvish rope, but of the more mundane sort), and padded softly behind the Prince of the Woodland Realm all the way up those winding stone stairs.

         Alassëon was justifiably surprised.  He hadn't expected that the prince would actually be able to get the creature to follow him.  His amazement grew as Gollum remained passive even when he accepted the "leash" from Legolas.  At this point, he surmised that the youngest son of Thranduil really _was_ capable of anything, and thanked him profusely before escorting Gollum on his outing.

         The Greenleaf leaned against the doorframe with one shoulder, glad to have that over with.  His part was done- tonight, however, held much more in store than anyone of Mirkwood could ever imagine.  Because then, the "rescue party" would arrive, and the vital prisoner would escape in the midst of chaos.  It would be merely the beginning of many years' preparation, and Legolas smiled to think of what came next.

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..endchapter..

We're getting there, ever so slowly..but why is Legolas doing this, you ask?  That's just something I'll have to leave you to stew about for now, I think.  In the meantime, you Icould/I review to pass the time, perhaps?

The accuracy of the names is questionable, but you won't be seeing those two again.  Oldorion might reappear briefly (his name, by the way, is derived from the Quenya word for "hard"…I couldn't resist).


	3. I Deny

Disclaimer still applies.

_Thank you, **Asha**!  You made my mind start functioning again…questions are nice ^^._

This could also be called the Chapter of Much Dialogue.  I hate dialogue…

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Chapter Three: I Deny 

"Would you like to come riding with me, Youngest Thranduillion?"

Legolas grinned at the old joke, and made as if to swat the rump of Elladan's mount.  Having anticipated such vengeance, Elladan had already maneuvered Lassë out of harm's way.  Legolas missed accordingly, and stepped in a mud puddle instead.

"Me?  What have you done with your duplicate?"

Elladan rolled his eyes.  "He said he'd be damned before he came out in _this_ again.  Not for another day or so, when he's gotten dry and warm and clean again.  He was quite emphatic."

"Your brother is wise, mellon nin, and I will follow in his judgement.  It would appear as though you and your lovely Lassë are alone on this one.  When should those who are warmer and wiser expect your return?"

"Not for a week, I should say."

"A week!  No small wonder your own brother wouldn't go with you, then.  And besides, I believe you will miss the departure of the Ringbearer.  I hear that your father has decided to pick a group of those who will accompany him," Legolas trailed off, leaving an unspoken question in the air that Elladan did not fail to notice.

"No, I'm not dodging responsibility!  Father has already said that he is sending neither myself nor Elrohir," the elder of Elrond's twin sons smiled down at him, and added one last thing, "Speaking of journeys, Warmest and Wisest of Woodland Princes, I should be going now.  Farewell, Greenleaf!"

This time, Legolas did manage to get in a "smack" on the mare's hindquarters, albeit a gentle one, and watched his friend ride away laughing.

The archer shook his head and turned away, bounding gracefully up the stairs and into a warm and dry hall of The Last Homely House.  He meandered his way from hall to hall, intending to browse the library for something to do before dinner.

When he entered, he smiled; there was just something about books, and here they were- row after row and column upon column.  He started to make his way over to one of the shelves, but stopped when he heard a shadowy corner murmuring softly.  _Oh…so _that's_ what Aragorn meant went he said he was going to look for something in the library.  So much for reading…_

He went out the way he came in, and having nothing else to do, he merely let his feet and his mind wander.  This found both at Elrohir.  Well, the former at Elrohir's door, anyway.  Shrugging, he knocked.  And nearly fell forward when Elrohir opened the door; he must have been about to go somewhere himself.

"Legolas!  I take it you turned down Elladan?  I thought you would, being an Elf of such great sense, even if you are from Mirkwood."  Elrohir winked at him, and fingered one of his friend's still-wet tendrils of hair.

Legolas overlooked the good-natured jibe, and raised an eyebrow.  "He said he'd be gone for a _week_.  Did he get hit on the head while you were out with the Rangers?"  The blonde flicked the dark-haired Elf's ear, grinning wickedly.  Delayed revenge is always best…

Elrohir put his hand to his ear and glared as best he could.  "Hey!  That stings…"

"I give you only what you deserve, mellon nin.  Now, shall we be off to dinner?"  He bowed playfully, gesturing toward the open door.  His reward was to be shoved out by a snickering Elrohir.

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            Elladan kicked dirt over the smouldering fire, and settled down onto his bedding.  He'd been fortunate enough to find a patch of ground that was mostly dry, so he wouldn't have to worry about sleeping wet.  Although he had done so, more than once.  He smiled to himself and got comfortable, thinking smugly of his twin and his friend, warm and probably very bored.  Unless, of course, they were up to some sort of mischief.  This was not unlikely, and he had a flash of sympathy for Estel.  Then again, it would probably be something most amusing.

            He started to drift off to sleep, but though he caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye.  He stayed still, feigning sleep, and watched.  For a long while nothing happened, and he started to think that he was being overly sensitive.  Then, when he was about to give way to sleep, a shadowy, but familiar, figure emerged.

            "Legolas?  Is that you?"

            In the shadows, a memory came unbidden to the one whose name had been spoken.

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Laughter.

Not a cruel sound, but rather a happy one.  So far as he could tell, it was the laughter of two.

            Legolas, youngest son of Thranduil, threw another rock into the little pool of water, watching the ripples spread until they seemed to consume everything.  They even tried to leave the water, or so it appeared to him.  He fancied that they might come up and swallow _him_, too. 

            Staring into the miniature waves, he didn't notice anyone come up behind him until he heard a voice from over his shoulder.  It was a dark-haired Elf-child, possibly about his age.  It was close enough.

"You're Legolas, aren't you?  One of Thranduil's sons?"

            Legolas scrunched up his nose- that's all anyone ever bothered to know about him, just that he was "Thranduil's youngest son," like it was some sort of title he should be proud of.  At least this one knew his _name_.

"Yeah, I am.  What about it?"

The other stuck out his hand, which was somewhat dirty, presumably from playing.  "I'm Elladan."

Before Legolas could say anything, another young Elf popped up out of the foliage, quite filthy from head to toe, but otherwise he would not have been able to tell one from the other.

"I'm Elrohir!  Wanna play with us?  Arwen won't, because she's afraid of getting dirty.  Besides, she screams too much.  It's not as much fun with just the two of us."

The little prince's eyes lit up, and he beamed up at the pair from his cross-legged position at the edge of the water.

"Sure!"

With no further ado, Elrohir slapped him on the shoulder, and informed him, matter-of-factly, "You're it!"

The twins dashed off, and Legolas chased after them, laughing.

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            "No.  I don't know who you're talking about."

            Blood ran in crimson rivulets across earth that was already soaked through, and there was only starlight to mourn the fallen; it paid him tribute in the silvering of his blood, paralleled only by the cold glistening of a blade in the night.

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.endchapter.

Heheh..I suppose that was evil of me, wasn't it?

It took me a while to decide which twin was going to get killed…I'm still deciding whether or not Elrohir should go, too.  Perhaps reviews could persuade me to spare him…perhaps not.

I was half-tempted to write "Warmest and Wisest of Woodland Worthies," but that would have been too much.  I have my limits, you know…I couldn't make Elladan sound _that_ corny.


	4. A Window of Opportunity

*waves hands in the air*

No, no, it's not mine…

I finally get started on this, and what happens?  Thunderstorm, and goodbye to what I'd managed to finish.  I like storms, but it just _had_ to go and make things difficult…

Anyway, I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up.  The end of school, exams, a trip to see my friend, then another to Scotland and England…I hope that's a suitable justification for the wait.  I _am_ sorry, though.

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Chapter Four: A Window of Opportunity 

            The prince woke up to a knock on his bedroom door sometime in the middle of the stormy night (or was it morning?), and was dragged unceremoniously away from his dreams.  They were dreams he was glad to be awakened from, but he couldn't remember why.  Shaking off the vestiges of sleep, he made his way carefully to the chamber door.  He nearly slipped on a slick spot on his floor, and grabbed onto the bedpost to steady himself.  It wouldn't do for him to fall and get a black eye, thereby besmirching his reputation as a graceful Elf.  He opened the door and again came face to face with Elrohir, although this time he was looking rather sleepy himself, and was apparently distressed by something.  He managed to grin at his friend, and stepped aside to let him enter.

"Scared of the storm, Elly?"

This was rewarded with a scrunched up face and a snort as Elrohir shook his head.  If there was one thing he and his brother hated, it was this particular shortening of their names.  Legolas closed the door and took a seat on his bed, while Elrohir chose a pleasantly cushioned chair instead.

"I just…couldn't sleep.  I've got a bad feeling about something, but I don't know what.  I'm worried…"

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to get them to stay open, then looked back at Legolas, and noticed something he hadn't when he came in.  He also decided to return the blonde's jibe from before.

"Hey, Leggy, what're you all wet for?  Go for a late-night walk in the rain or something?"

Alarmed, Legolas looked down at himself.  He'd fallen asleep in his clothes, and they were indeed quite wet.  His hair was the same, and hung in darkened, curling tendrils around his face and shoulders.  Hiding his momentary distress, he latched onto the first feasible reason for his appearance.

"Oh, that?  I forgot to shut my window, so I guess the rain blew in on me."

As he really _had_ left the window open (which would explain the slick spot on the floor), he got up and closed it.  Rather than returning to the bed, he leaned against the wall.  There was an awkward silence (could Elrohir tell he was lying?), during which Legolas twirled a rain-soaked piece of hair around his index finger in an effort to conceal his tension.  Thankfully, the darker-haired of the pair seemed not to notice anything was amiss.

"Since it would seem as though neither of us can sleep, I suggest we do something productive with our time…"

Thranduil's son had a positively gleeful look on his deceptively innocent face as he looked up, and Elrohir couldn't help but be caught up in it.

"And what do you suggest we do, my devious friend?"

"Well, I think we should go check in on our good friend Estel, and see how _he_ is sleeping this night.  What do you say?"

He'd stopped playing with his hair by now, and was swept up by his own enthusiasm.  Oh, the things they could do to the poor, unsuspecting Man!

"A wondrous idea, Prince of Mirkwood.  What say we pay him a visit?  I know just where my father put him…"

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            The passing of a few minute's time found them not in Aragorn's bedchamber, but rather in the kitchen.  After all, what good is a prank if you're going to starve to death before you're done?  The two young Elves were giggling uncontrollably, but only partially due to the upcoming fun.  Legolas had had to stand on a counter to get at the eggs (whose idea was it to put them _up_ so high?), but slipped in his own puddle of water; this sent him on an impressive downward journey, as well as the eggs he'd been holding.  He ended up on the floor with sore regions that need not be discussed, but the eggs (not to mention Elrohir) were far more unfortunate.  Elrohir was sporting raw eggs in his hair, along with broken eggshells that went quite dashingly with his dark mane.  Naturally, a food fight had ensued, during which they were careful not be _too_ loud.  Now the both of them had bits and pieces of culinary delights sticking to their persons, although they'd managed to get some _in_ themselves, unable to bear the thought of such lovely food going completely to waste.

            Hence fortified against hunger, and equipped with a jug of _very_ cold water, they crept down the hallway to…see how their friend the Ranger was doing.  Aragorn had been long away from Rivendell and its more miscreant inhabitants (and in this case, visitor), and had forgotten the danger of sleeping with his door unlocked.  This afforded them easy access, and they stifled their giggles as they made their way silently over to the bed of the unsuspecting victim.

Legolas very nearly gave them away when he heard what Aragorn was muttering about in his sleep, but Elrohir saved them by clapping a hand over Thranduillion's mouth.  Elrohir snickered quietly, though he looked a bit chagrined.  Well, it was _his_ sister, after all.  Once the roguish duo had themselves under control, they leaned over the sprawled form of the sleeping human, grinning like mad.  Unable to contain themselves any longer, they dumped the icy water right on his face.  Jerked awake, Aragorn sat up spluttering and flailing, trying to clear the water from his eyes.  Despite his best efforts, all he got was a glimpse of two fleeing individuals, one with light hair and one with dark.  The dark-haired Elf paused in his flight long enough to shout something that sounded like "'Morning, Estel!" before he shot off after the other.  Aragorn tried to give chase, but slipped and landed hard on the floor, and was left wondering what blackberry jam was doing on the floor.

"Legolas!  Elrohir!  I'm gonna get you for this, I swear!"

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.endchapter.

Ah, there.  I know nothing really important happened, but I just had to get in one of their stunts.  I almost feel sorry for poor Aragorn.  Almost.

**Nikki**:  Yep!  It was Leggy!  *reaches up and pats him on the head*

**Katrina**:  Hee.  *does the evil cha-cha-cha with her*

**Asha**:  To answer your first question: because I am a cruel, cruel person.  Secondly, that's a secret (in fact, it's so secret that _I'm_ not even sure yet ^^).

**Anolinde**:  Thank you!  *gets warm, fuzzy feeling*


	5. IceReaper, SunSeeker

I live!

I was going to post this last night, but I ran out of time.

Okay..first, I'd like to start off with a profound apology about the fact that it's taken me nearly two months to get this new chapter written and posted. It was a combination of things (not least of which being that my hard drive self-destructed), but most recently it seemed like every time I was really ready to start writing it, something would prevent me from doing so. Misplaced my book, waited too long and lost the motivation, any number of things. Hopefully I won't be taking this long for the next chapter, what with school started and all (I write during class, heheh).

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Chapter Five: Ice-Reaper, Sun-Seeker

The Elf pulled his cloak tighter, in a futile effort to keep out the biting wind that had assailed them for days on their journey southwards. It was more reflex than actual need that prompted him to pull it tighter, and the memory of warmer (not to mention far less windy) places. They came this more difficult way in hopes of avoiding Sauron's spies, but the archer thought it unlikely that they would. In fact, to do so was impossible; for, after all, how could they avoid spies when there was one already in their midst, unnoticed and thought to be a friend?

Indeed, he walked behind the rest of the party as rearguard. Five days ago, when he'd been tossing edibles about the kitchen at Elrohir, he would not have imagined himself here. It had been with surprise that he had learned he was to be the Elven member of the Fellowship. Surprise, and more than a little pleasure. Such a position would allow him to keep close to the Ring and the one who carried it. He did not dare to try to take it for himself, no. It would be far too risky to do so, and already there were signs that he would never have a need to do so. The Man of Gondor, Boromir, began to show a weakness for it. The others had not yet noticed it, but the traitor had seen it in his eyes, just beginning to manifest itself. It would be some time yet, though this did not worry him. He had time, yes, he had a great deal of time. It was the fools with whom he traveled that were running out of time. They had been long before they even set out, since before any of them had been troubled by the matters of the Ring.

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After another day of traveling across the dreary plain, it was with great relief that Legolas at last lay down for the night. And it was with great chagrin that he heard (and felt) a particularly nasty 'squelch' when he did so. He sprang back up with an exclamation of disgust (something unintelligible, and probably not repeatable), at the expense of his Elven composure and dignity. This was met with great whoops of laughter from eight different directions, but the sound was greatest from the direction of a certain Man by the name of Aragorn son of Arathorn. Bending down swiftly, he scooped up the remainder of the mud (he didn't even want to think about what might be _in_ said mud), and lopped it in the Ranger's direction. He hit his target precisely where he'd meant to (he was an archer, after all), and the smug look on Estel's face disappeared beneath a coating of mud. His revenge somewhat complete, he set to wiping the mud from his, err, hind end, to renewed choruses of laughter. Gandalf in particular seemed to find the situation particularly amusing, though Legolas couldn't quite figure out why.

Giving Aragorn one last wicked smile, he lay back down on his bedroll, now relatively free of things that go 'squish' in the night.

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Many days later the Nine Walkers now longed for the plain they had been so glad to leave behind them. And very soon now, they _would_ be returning to it, in order that they might take another route, for the Redhorn refused to let them continue on their current path. The only one who was relatively undisturbed by the raging snows, Legolas often let his mind wander.

Before coming to Caradhras they had passed through Eregion, called Hollin by the race of Men, where only the stones of the earth now remembered the Elves that had once dwelt there. The _crebain_ had flown over them, then, and until this past night they had had no fire. But need now dictated that they turn back, and so they would.

However, even that task would prove difficult. He had suggested that Gandalf melt a path through the snow for the others, to which Gandalf had replied that it would be rather useful if Elves could fly over the mountains and retrieve for them the Sun. Instead he now watched as Boromir, Aragorn following behind, tried to clear a path for the rest through the snow. Watching their slow progress (they seemed to be swimming, rather than walking), Legolas grew impatient, and turned to the others, smiling pleasantly.

"The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plow, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or snow - an Elf."

Still grinning, he leapt away, calling back to Gandalf, "Farewell! I go to find the Sun!"

He waved to the struggling Men as he passed by, quickly disappearing from sight, leaving hardly a footprint behind him.

In the end, he could not fetch for them the Sun, but the Men succeeded in clearing their path. 

    Caradhras the Cruel had defeated them.

And deep within Legolas Thranduillion, the shadow slept.

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.endchapter.

There are a couple of parts I like (the muddy bit in particular), but other than that I really hate this chapter. The bits of Legolas speaking at the end are from the book, by the way. And the chapter title was completely random.

It's such a relief to finally have that done, I've been feeling guilty about it for ages. Now I just have to get up-to-date on my KH fic, and my conscience will be clear.

Oh, while I was writing this one of the fics I've read popped into my mind: "Differences (Did You Ever Find the Sun?)" by Brin (storyid=565298).  It's a very nice one, I recommend it highly.

**Nikki:** I'm not going to stop, I promise. And hopefully, after this, there won't be as long a wait between chapters.

**Katrina:** I'm glad I'm not the only one who thought it was funny ^^. Hehe, I'll try to fit in a few more funny things as I go, it makes things so much more, well, fun. (Mm, chocolate..)

**Loopy Lu:** Why is he evil? That comes later *nods*. I'll let you guess until then ;).


	6. A Howling in the Midst

Oh dear.  Does time really go by _that_ fast?  School's been eating so much of my time that I didn't notice until it had been more than a month since I updated.  Regardless, this is actually the third version of this chapter I've written.  I got about halfway done with the first one and hated it, a page into the second and scrapped that, and then there's this one.  Thankfully, I like this one a great deal better, even though it took me forever to write.

I hate having to scroll all the way down to the bottom of a page to see what something means, so the translation of any Elvish will be somewhere close by to the Elvish itself.

---------|:---:|---------

Chapter Five: A Howling in the Midst

In all directions, he could hear wolves howling.  It had been going on for what seemed like forever now.  They were everywhere, the wolves.  He knew that around him, the eight other Walkers were afraid.  Some, like Aragorn, quelled it, while the little _periain _were visibly shaking.  Legolas could hear them whispering to each other, their hushed voices a sharp contrast to the ceaseless howling.

Perhaps, if what howled in the darkness were wolves in truth, the Hobbits' fear would not have been so great.  Aragorn and Boromir certainly would not fear mere wolves, nor would the presence of such wildlife (for they were only wildlife indeed, in comparison) worry Mithrandir.   But these were Wargs, fierce and terrible and foul, and all sane creatures feared them.  Legolas Greenleaf was not afraid.

As the howling rose around them, so did memory.

[_periain_:hobbits]

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"Estel!  Estel, where are you _going_?  That's the wrong way!"

The sudden silence that followed Elladan's call was followed by hoofbeats, but this time coming towards the group, instead of headed away.  The fog was thick, and even the three Elves who waited for their errant friend could not see very far in it.  As such, it was a few moments before Aragorn came into their view, his dark bay mare trotting happily back through the mud to the huddled ring of her stablemates.  The wind whipped hard around them, blowing their manes and tails in all directions like tangled, damp ribbons.  Their riders were not much better off, and periodically a hood would blow back to reveal delicately pointed ears and long hair.  Two of the faces revealed by the attentions of the wind were remarkably similar, both with dark hair that was striking, even wet and wind-blown.  The other was markedly different, and though the rain had darkened his hair, it was still considerably lighter than that of his comrades'.

Once the stray horse and rider had joined the circle of their companions, it was clear that he had long since given up completely on keeping his hood up, and surrendered himself to a drenching.  He pushed back the hair that clung to his face, looking at his dark-haired brothers and their friend through incredulous blue eyes.

"What're you three playing at _this_ time?  Mist or no, I know my way home, and this isn't it."

                Elladan and Elrohir managed to look affronted, and voiced their protests at the same time.

"Estel!  When have we ever given you reason to doubt our integrity?"

"We're not playing at anything, little brother!  _Gwestam_!"

[_gwestam_: we swear]

                Aragorn only raised his eyebrow, skepticism growing by leaps and bounds.  He turned to the other Elf for help.

"Legolas?  What's going on?"

The individual in question grinned, reaching over to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Did your brothers forget to tell you, then?  You're not going home.  You three are coming with me, east over the _Hithaeglir_."

[_Hithaeglir_: the Misty Mountains]

                Legolas got the feeling that if the young Man hadn't been on a horse, he would have been jumping up and down, and most likely yelling, at that.  Well, he still could have yelled, but apparently he'd thought better of it.

"You mean to Mirkwood?  We're going to Mirkwood?"

Legolas laughed, caught up in this almost childlike outburst.

"Yes, to Mirkwood.  To _my_ home.  And if we stay here any longer, your brothers will be sleeping in warm beds with good wine in their stomachs while we are here wasting away to mist ourselves."

As he spoke, the hoofbeats of the twins' horses were rapidly moving out of hearing.  Swept up in his own excitement, Aragorn had failed to notice their departure.  Laughing as much at himself as in anticipation of the days ahead, he spurred his mare after his brothers, disappearing into the mist after them.  The youngest member of Thranduil's brood watched him fade away before beginning his own pursuit.  Being the straggler for now didn't bother him.  Besides, he knew a shortcut.

--

The passing of a few days found them on the western side of the Anduin, camped under an overhanging rock.  The weather had yet to improve, and Legolas didn't need to look to know that the rain was falling sideways.  Even so, it didn't seem to have dampened Aragorn's spirits in the least.  He'd never been to Mirkwood before, which meant that the youth was more than eager.  Come to think of it, Legolas couldn't for the life of him remember how old Aragorn was.  He never had been able to tell for certain the age of Men just by looking at them.  So he asked Elladan instead, and got laughed at.

"Haven't you asked this before?  He's nineteen."

"Sorry, I'd forgotten again.  I'll try to remember this time."

Elladan just rolled his eyes at him, then went back to watching the rain fall.  Somewhere out in the downpour was Aragorn, who had yet to learn to sit still, apparently.  The Elves had let him go; it was his own fault if (when) he came back cold and sniffling.  The three of them sat there in silence for some time, glad to be under their rocky shelter, all of them thinking pretty much the same thing: was Estel _insane_?

At first, when they heard a shout, they paid it no heed.  The wanderer had probably done something befitting his questionable state of mind.  When they heard it again, louder this time, they paid attention.  They were up and on their feet in a moment, taking off in the direction of the sound.  Branches whipped his face as Legolas sprinted through the trees, just ahead of his friends (he'd always been just a little bit faster).  It was only a short time before he broke through one last ring of trees and underbrush and into a clearing, skidding to halt in the mud.  His heart had been racing before, but now it skipped a beat.

Several yards away Aragorn was on the ground, pressed up against a tree, clutching a dagger dripping with blood and rainwater in his hand.  Snarling in front of him was a Warg, an adolescent by its size, but still a very large, very dangerous one.  Even at this distance he could smell it, reeking of wet fur and the decaying flesh of its one-time prey.  Blood ran down its leg from a wound in its shoulder, mixing with mud and water once it reached the ground.  Made deaf and blind by its single-minded desire to kill and devour the creature before it, it took no notice of Legolas, giving him an opening he couldn't miss.  Knowing the shot would be an easy one, the lone Elf reached for his bow.

Only to discover that in his hurry, he had left it behind.  His quiver of arrows lay on his back, but his bow lay propped against the rock under which they had made their camp.  With a sinking heart he heard the Warg's snarling grow louder, and watched it crouch lower in preparation to lunge.  In a moment of desperation, he did the only thing he could think of, grabbing an arrow and throwing it with all his might.  While the tumbling projectile didn't so much as nick the thick hide, it hit with enough force to turn the beast's attention from Aragorn to Legolas.  It whirled to face him, and he was unfortunate enough to get an even worse whiff of the foul odor that permeated the air around the creature.

The archer was no stranger to Wargs, but for the very first time he found himself face to face with one.  He could feel it breathing hotly in his face, smell the carrion on its breath.  Yet it was the eyes that made him shudder, awakening an inescapable terror from within him.  It was not the wild gaze of a wolf that held him rooted to the ground, but the mad eyes of a killer that stared into his own and held him entranced, weaving a spell of bloodlust and instinct and rage, senseless and unadulterated.

It was then, when time had all but stopped, that he became vaguely aware of someone yelling, but he pushed the sound away, trapped in a spell he had no power to break.  In the end, Aragorn was the one to break the spell cast upon the Elf by the beast and the terror it had unleashed in his mind.  Still detached from reality, he watched the Warg go down under the human, keening in pain and anger as its former prey stabbed it again and again, until finally it moved no more.  Panting, covered from head to toe in mud, his savior knelt by the lifeless corpse, eyes half-closed as he tried to collect himself.

The sight shook the last remnants of fog from Legolas' mind, and he walked over to stand in front of the one who had saved his life.  He reached down to offer his hand to help up the other, who looked up and spoke with all seriousness.

"You shouldn't have done that, you know."

Legolas just chuckled and gripped Aragorn's hand, pulling him to his feet and slinging his arm around his friend's shoulder and mimicking his usually casual speech.

"Aww, c'mon, Estel!  Elrond would've killed me if I let anything happen to you.  I helped you purely out of self-interest."

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                More than half a century later, it was beginning to look like he and Aragorn might again come face to face with a Warg.  This time, though, there were many, and they were all fully-grown.  Now he stood next to his friend, and the heat he felt was from the fire at his back, in the center of a ring of stones and old trees.  This poor defense at the top of a hill was little comfort for the Fellowship, who watched the darkness with wary eyes.

                Legolas closed his own eyes, listening to the howls of the Wargs who circled around them in the night.  He felt himself swept up in their music, in their songs of darkness and desire, of a hunger for blood that surpassed all else.  As the howling rose to a crescendo, so too did the darkness rise in the prince's heart, joining in the chorus sung by the assassins of the night, and he was powerless to stop it.  His awareness dwindled until only the howls mattered, the voices of the pack calling to him across the clouded darkness.

_Brother?_ was their question to him.

_Join us! _was their command.

_You are one of us!  Why do you stay in that pack of quivering dogs?  Come, for we are your pack!  Leave them!   Leave them and come to us, brother!_

                Legolas, breathing heavily although he knew not why, was brought from his reverie by one howl that rose above the rest, calling the pack to gather, to begin their assault of the hilltop and its defenders.  For the second time in his life he looked into the eyes a Warg, and the eyes of this, their leader, were of no compare.  They drew him in and called to him as the howling had, willing him to take his place in the pack.  This time, there was no one to yell, no one who knew he fought.  Somehow, despite the force of the pack-leader's will against his own, he managed to raise his bow, to ready the arrow with which he could slay this beast.  The eyes that bore into his soul narrowed, a mocking snarl challenged him to do what he could not, for he was but a pup, and incapable of such a thing.  Legolas' eyes never left those of the creature that stood before him, even as he took aim.  He said something, then, that no one could hear.  No one but the leader, who lunged forward, and fell heavily to the earth with an arrow embedded in his throat.

                The pack went silent, the tension in the night air was dispelled.  No notice was taken of the archer's shuddering breath of relief, as no notice had been taken of his whispered words.  As he watched the blood pool on the ground, he repeated them to himself, trying to tell himself that they were true.

"_Ûnach nín gwador_."

[_ûnach nín gwador_: you are not my brother]

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.endchapter.

Please don't kill me if my Elvish was off, I really did try to get it right.

Umm.  Wow.  That took me _forever_ to get the way I wanted it, not counting the other versions.  I had about half of it done when I started typing it, but it still took forever.  I don't know why I had such a hard time with this one…I'm much happier with it than with the last chapter, so that's a plus.  For once, something came out the way I wanted it to.  Still, there are only so many nouns I can think of for Legolas, Aragorn, and Warg(s).

**Loopy Lu**:  Hehe, that's not a bad guess at all.  It's not right, but it is one of the ideas that I played with.  It just didn't work right, though.

**Alynna Lis Eachann**:  Thankoo!  Sorry for the wait on this one.

**Hidden**:  Umm, thanks…

**onewhohastoomuchtime**: Well, here's the next installment for you ^^.  Still nice and evil, I hope?


	7. Stories and Stragglers

Uh…wow.  I didn't realize until I started typing this just how _long_ it's been since I updated.  I mean, I knew it had been a long time, but four months?  How did _that_ happen?  If it's any consolation, I feel horrible that I've made you wait this long.  Allow me to go hit myself over the head repeatedly with a hardbound copy of something.

Oh, before you read!  I've switched point of view to Aragorn for this chapter.

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Chapter Seven: Stories and Stragglers

"So then I pushed him into Morn Nen, and now he insists that none of it ever happened."

"But Legolas, what about Strider?  Didn't you push him in, too?"

"Well, you see, Sam, I decided it would be in my own best interest to take my revenge in a different manner, as the last time I'd pushed him in, he was rather angry with me."

"You must have done something _really_ splendid, if it made him so angry."

Pippin's eyes lit up when Merry said that, and it was obvious that he was doing everything in his power to keep from bursting with curiousity, wondering just what the Elf had done.

"Be patient, Pippin, I'm getting to it," Legolas chided, and went on, "Alright, so here's what we did…"

He kept his word, proceeding to tell his four eager listeners about the time he, Elladan, and Elrohir had pushed Aragorn into the black stream on Mirkwood on his twenty-fifth birthday.  The expression on his face was positively gleeful as he recounted the story in every last detail, from actually getting his friend to the stream in the first place to the struggle that had ensued once their intentions became clear.

The Ranger in question, in the midst of taking a drink, choked and spat out the water.  That _story?  He's telling _that_ story?_  Panicked, he fished for something –anything! – to keep him from going any farther with that story.  By this point it wasn't just the Hobbits who were listening, but Gimli and Boromir, too.  Finally, he latched onto the one thing he could think of that would stop the Elf.

"Hey, Legolas, doesn't the whole 'black stream' prank get old after a while?  One would think that after a few millennia, you could come up with something different!"

"Ah, but Estel, how could you expect me to forget that wonderful fit you threw when you woke up?  Why, you were the picture of –" 

"I suggest you stop now, my friend."

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, _friend_, you were the picture of feminine beauty."

All of a sudden, Aragorn once again became aware of the pressing silence of Moria, previously lightened by stories and hushed laughter.  Now, however, he was also aware of the eight pairs of eyes looking to him in want of an explanation.  Boromir coughed.  Gimli looked perplexed.  The Hobbits just sat there waiting for clarification.  And Gandalf…well, Gandalf was just smoking his pipe and pretending he hadn't heard a thing.  Legolas was looking at him with a smug, triumphant smile.  Quite frankly, it was infuriating.

"Uh, Merry?  D'you know if he's supposed to be that color?"

"No, Pip, I don't think he's supposed to be that color.  It's delightful, though, isn't it?  I've never seen anyone that color before!"

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In the deep dark of Moria, laughter was fleeting.  Indeed, life itself seemed fleeting in such a place.  They had found Balin's tomb.  Even now, Gandalf read aloud the fate of the Dwarf.  What now had become of their hope?  Where now was the end of this thing?  It was so hard to see, in a place where darkness covers more than one's eyes.

---------|:---:|---------

"There are Orcs, very many of them, and some are large and evil: black Uruks of Mordor.  For the moment they are hanging back, but there is something else there.  A great cave-troll, I think, or more than one.  There is no hope of escape that way."

Standing beside the eastern door of the chamber, Aragorn shut his eyes, suppressing the beginnings of the fear he felt forming.  Here he was, warrior, Ranger, descendant of kings, but still he was afraid.  This place was evil and full of evil things (already they clamored outside, in the hall), and he knew not if he would ever be free of Moria.  Yet there was hope, for this eastern way seemed safe, and he said as much, drawing Andúril as he spoke.

"There is no sound outside here yet.  The passage on this side plunges straight down a stair: it plainly does not lead back towards the hall.  But it is no good flying blindly this way with pursuit just behind.  We must first delay the enemy.  They will fear the Chamber of Mazarbul before we are quit of them!"

No sooner had he said this than a great, green arm burst through the western door, then a monstrous foot.  Boromir, closest to the door, yelled mightily and hacked at the arm of the troll, but the sword, even with the strength of the Man behind it, could not penetrate the troll's hide.  In amazement, Aragorn watched as Frodo sprang forward and plunged the blue glow of Sting straight through the hideous, toeless foot.  With a roar of pain the troll jerked back into the hallway, nearly taking Bilbo's old sword with it.  

But the respite was short-lived, as Orcs leaped through the opening made by the troll, flooding into the chamber.  At last given a foe he could contend with, Aragorn fell into the heated rhythm of battle with which he was so familiar, thrusting and slashing and feinting, letting the fight take hold of him.  He was aware of nothing save the sound of weapon on weapon and flesh impacting on flesh as the Company fought, right down to the little ones.

When at last the enemy fled, he did not know how many he had killed, nor did it concern him.  They had bought the time they needed, and now they needed to get _out_.  He turned, making for the only way out they had, when the unthinkable happened.  A single Orc, larger than all the others, caught the party off-guard, and Aragorn could do naught but stare in disbelief as he hurled a spear straight at Frodo, the force of the blow sending him  flying against the wall.  Howling in anger, Aragorn brought his sword up and then down again, right on the Orc, splitting it's head down the middle.  He wasted no time, going to Frodo where he lay by the wall and scooping up the little Halfling, then fled through the eastern door after the others.

Boromir hauled the door closed after him, and at last Aragorn was free to think, if only for a moment.  Just as he started to realize that there was no possible way Frodo could have survived, the Ringbearer proved him wrong.

"I'm all right," Frodo gasped, "Put me down!"

Abruptly, Aragorn did, nearly dropping him in astonishment.

"You're alive!  But _how_?" he cried.

Gandalf laid a hand on his shoulder, pushing him none too gently in the direction of the stairs.

"There is no time now for explanation.  Go, I will hold them a while longer!  Do as I say, your swords are of no more use here!"

And so they went as the wizard commanded, though they were reluctant to leave him, groping their way down the dark stair.

---------|:---:|---------

_"Go back to the Shadow!  You cannot pass."_

_"You cannot pass!"_

_"Fly, you fools!_

Over and over again, Aragorn saw him, standing at the edge of the bridge he had broken, as the Balrog's whip cracked and lashed around him, pulling him over the edge and into the abyss, despite his vain attempts to cling to the edge.  That final warning rang still in his ears, even now that they stood in the sunlight, in Dimrill Dale.  Hadn't he warned the wizard?  Hadn't he told he him to beware if he passed through the door to Moria?  Hadn't he?  But it didn't matter anymore.  The old wizard was dead; Gandalf the Grey had fallen.

Knowing they could not linger any longer, Aragorn shook himself free of his reverie, yet his grief remained, an inexplicable emptiness in some corner of his soul, come to reside there upon the death of his old friend.  Once more, he told himself there could be no more delay, and this time he succeeded in pushing the grief back to where he could deal with it later.  Raising his head, he looked around at his companions.  The Hobbits huddled together, weeping.  Boromir, his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder, spoke in quiet sadness with Gimli.

Legolas was nowhere to be seen.

---------|:---:|---------

Okay, so I shouldn't have just cut off the whole Moria sequence, and I didn't originally intend to, but I just couldn't take it anymore.  This chapter is a big part of the reason I didn't update for so long; I absolutely did not want to write about Moria.  I'm not entirely sure why, but ever since I started I was dreading this chapter, and it didn't get any better once I actually started it.  So I compromised with myself and decided to cut off everything after the Chamber of Mazarbul.

You're probably going to laugh and think to yourself _"Yeah, right"_ when I say this, but I give you my word that I'll have the next chapter up within two weeks.  I promise.  I can't stand to break my word, so now that I've given it I won't be able to justify my procrastinating to myself, and it'll get done.

**Loopy Lu**: *hands back your Undead Legion* I may have to borrow them again at some point…they're a little on the ugly side (alright, a LOT on the ugly side), and they smell horrible, but they work quite well!  Know some pretty good drinking songs, too.

**Rabbit of Iron**: Ooh, I like that ("properly evil" indeed!).  I think you'll find him even more endearing by the time this is over with.  If Alatariel doesn't kill me first for the things I'm going to do, that is.

**Starlit Hope**: A very good question.  Looks like he'll have a time of it just getting there, much less dealing with Galadriel.  If he gets there at all.  Does he get there?  Does he get there not?  *plucks flower petals*

**Aislynn Crowdaughter**: *gives you a cookie with a little heart on it* I've been found out!  I looked into it before I decided that what it would be, but since Tolkien's really vague about them, it gives me enough room to do what I want, for the most part.  I might end up twisting it a little by the end, but it shouldn't be too bad.

**Alynna Lis Eachann**: At the moment, that's still up in the air.  I think he's finished with spying, but he's definitely not finished.  *blushes* Thank you so much for the compliment, it means a lot!

**Alatariel**: There, there!  It's done!  Happy now?

**fire fearie**: ** Thanks!  **Don't worry, I'd never abandon a fic.  I can't in good conscience not finish something I've started, no matter how long it takes me to do it.


	8. Mirrormere in the Dale

Ack, three days late!  I'm really sorry!  Things are pretty crazy around here at the moment (in a good way, mind you), so I had to put off updating 'til today.  I hope you're not _too_ disappointed with me?

---------|:---:|---------

Chapter 8: Mirrormere in the Dale

In the fading twilight, a figure stands alone at the water's edge, tall and slender.  He reaches out as if both longing and fearing to dip his fingers into the mountain pool, to feel the icy caress of the waters on his own warm skin, and risk the fading beauty.

Any familiar with the tarn, called Kheled-zâram in the tongue of Durin's folk, would know what has held him there entranced: stars shone there in the deep, although the sky above was clouded over.

Abruptly, he looks up, aware of presence that now taints this place, but his weapons are lost; he has nowhere to go.

---

As dusk fades to cloudy night, a body floats in the chill waters of Mirrormere, seeming to drift among the stars.

---------|:---:|---------

Short one this time!  It'll go back to a more reasonable length next chapter, though.

**Alynna Lis Eachann:** Phew, I'm so glad I didn't lose everyone after that long (also that I'm not the only one ^^).  Thanks!  Using Aragorn instead of Legolas had me a bit worried.

**Rabbit of Iron:** No more four months of waiting, don't worry!  Hmm..Legolas was off a-wandering in more ways than one, and at the moment the Wargs are profoundly useful, reappearing writing implements (in other words, I think they're _really_ fun to play with for some reason).  Hehe, I have so much fun thinking up all the weird things they could get themselves into..hopefully I'll be able to get in a few more.


End file.
